


A Formal Arrangement

by Windian



Series: A Formal Arrangement [1]
Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Asbel's dense readings are off the chart, First Date, First Kiss, Humour, M/M, Richass Week 2016, crackfic, post-f arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Richard has always known he must marry. Just par for the course on the whole royalty shebang: the bride, the security, the heir, et cetera, et cetera. But when the King drags his feet on the selection process, Duke Dalen steps in to suggests a very different kind of candidate: Lord Asbel of Lhant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 4-parter fic written for Richass Week 2016! The next few parts will be posted over the next three days. 
> 
> The story is set super, super vaguely after the F arc, except let's ignore canon and imagine that Sophie never gave Asbel the shove to confess to Cheria in Barona.

The young King's desk was the first, obvious sign that Richard felt off-kilter. Usually kept neat and orderly, Duke Dalen stood before his King looking down at the towering mountains of paperwork that threatened to keel over under their own weight. The King himself wore a tired, if sheepish smile as he welcomed his old friend and aide.

"I take it you've… still not had a moment to look over any of the girls' profiles I sent you?" Duke Dalen said, keeping his voice light and free from accusation.

A small but noticeable wince. "I had a look at one," he said.

"And?"

Richard sighed. His head went into his hands. "If I'm honest, she was suitable. Beautiful, intelligent, and her family ties would have brought the reinforcement the Crown would benefit from."

"And yet, you still do not wish to meet his girl?" Dalen enquired.

Another atypical sigh from his lord, who rarely sighed, or groused, or made any noise of complaint at all. "I should, really, shouldn't I? I should at least meet her. That would be fair."

"It would be fair. However…" For years now, Dalen and his family had shared close ties with the Crown, and he had seen the young prince mature into a kind and thoughtful king, much like his father had been. The council might be pressing their ideals of a perfect match for the King, but Dalen had long entertained the inkling of what Richard might prefer instead of a bride.

Simply put, he'd been in Richard's service long enough, and wasn't blind.

Surprise flared in Richard's eyes as Dalen took the profile with the girl's portrait, and discarded into the waste bin. "Lady Arianne may indeed be a suitable match for many men, but I do not believe she is suitable for you, Your Majesty. Nor are any of these other recommendations the council have prepared. As such, I have taken the liberty of preparing several other matches, if you would be kind enough to take a look at them. If they are unsuitable to you in any way, they can be disregarded."

There was still a wariness in Richard, but a spark of curiosity too. "Oh, is that so? You've caught my interest. These must be some beauties indeed, for you to toss Lady Arianne's profile like so."

Richard took the envelope Dalen offered and opened it with the gilded letter-opener, taking a look at the first profile off the top. He read, emotion drained from his voice in shock: "John Barrymore, son of Lord Barrymore." In the hollow valley of his shocked silence, Dalen took the moment to explain.

"The practice of taking a male bride used to be widely practised just some decades ago, and still is in the lower classes. At any rate, it's quite legal." The young King still looked shell shocked, so Dalen thought he might as well carry on. "Since the council is primarily pushing for you to wed to strengthen the capital's ties, I see no reasons why they would reject such a match."

"But—" Richard was spluttering, "what about the matter of an heir?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'd be ingenious enough to think of some way around that, don't you, your Majesty?"

Richard nodded, still rather taken aback as he flipped through the profiles.

"Though, perhaps…" Dalen added furtively, hands joined behind his back as he looked out towards the window, "did I misjudge the situation?"

"Oh, no," said Richard quickly. "You… you did not, Dalen. And I promise that I will look through these and consider them carefully and…—" the young King's voice trailed off into a choking sound.

Well, Dalen wondered when the young King was going to get to that particular profile. He offered Richard a moment, admiring the young bird on the windowsill preparing its nest.

"Y-you've included Asbel's profile?" Richard gasped. Dalen looked away from the delightful little nest to see his usually composed King's face had turned rather pink.

"Yes, I'd particularly like you to think on that one, your Majesty. As the Lord of Lhant it's a particularly attractive match. Especially as it fixes our heir problem, since he already has a daughter."

"S-Sophie?"

Oh, my. Dalen was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't have brought some water with him. Richard's face was so flushed he wondered if he might pass out.

"I've already spoken with his mother, Lady Kerri, and she's highly approving of the match. She's been hoping her son would wed soon, too."

"Yes, I know. He's been telling me about it…" Richard muttered.

"And if I may…"

"Please, go on," Richard said, somewhat numbly.

"When someone drags their heels over an arrangement such as this, I've found in my experience it's because they already have someone else in mind. And you and young Asbel have always been such close friends." There was no question in the statement, but it conveyed the intention well enough.

"He is indeed a very dear friend to me," Richard said, without looking at him, with an air of the noncommittal.

His young King could be, at times, most exasperating.

"Well, if that's the case, think no more on it. I see I may have misjudged the situation," Dalen said, and he took the profile from Richard's frozen hands. "I'm sure you have a lot of work to do, your Majesty. I'll leave you." He turned and headed for the door, but, just as he'd thought he would, Richard stopped him.

"Dalen! Please wait."

Dalen paused, and inclined his head, a small smile on his face.

"You… have not misjudged the situation," Richard admitted.

Yes, Dalen could boast that he knew his young King very well indeed.

* * *

_Some weeks later, in Lhant…_

"We're going to have to do something about this sopheria addiction of yours one day, Sophie," Asbel said, as he stood in the doorway of his study. The flowers that had taken over every single flower bed in the manor had apparently also invaded his home now, too. There were flowers on the desk, on the cabinets, in buckets on the floor. "You know there are other flowers other than sopherias, right?"

Sophie straightened up from where she was putting the finishing touches of another arrangement. "Don't you like it, Asbel?" she asked, concern tucked in her voice, and immediately Asbel threw his hands up and backtracked.

"Not at all! It's very, uh, purple. I'm just wondering why we needed _quite_ so many in here.

"I talked to Cheria, and she said that when people were sick you picked flowers and put them in a vase. So I picked a whole lot," Sophie explained.

"Uh, well unless you know something I don't, Sophie, I think there's a misunderstanding. I'm perfectly healthy."

"Really? But every evening I see you in here and you're looking through your paperwork with your head in your hands, groaning. It looks like it hurts."

Every evening for the past week, Asbel had been trying to plough his way through the profiles of bridal prospects his mother had dumped on his desk. She'd insisted he find at least three he'd like to meet with, and to that end he'd spent the last few evenings with the candle guttering low on the wick, bent over the same profiles and portraits.

To be fair to Sophie, he probably had looked like he was in pain.

It wasn't like the girls weren't good looking, or anything like that. But something about the idea of the whole thing just seemed…

"Asbel?" Sophie enquired, head inclined to the side. "You've got the same look on your face again. Does your stomach ache?"

Asbel chuckled, and put a fond hand on Sophie's hair. "Thank you for always looking out for me, Sophie. But I promise you I'm well. Just worrying about a few things, that's all."

"Oh. Does it have to do with all those pictures of those girls on your desk?"

For all her naivety, Sophie could be very astute at times. "Hm. Yeah."

"Was that about what Grandma Kerri was talking to you about? About how you're old enough and need to carry on the family line and hurry up and get married and also give her grandchildren?"

Sometimes, scarily astute.

"Uh. Yeah," said Asbel.

Sophie thought on this for a moment. "And you don't want to get married?"

"It's not that I'm completely against it. I know my mother has a point," he said, sitting heavily at his desk, "it's just that…" he trailed away, and Sophie stared at him, waiting. "Oh, I don't know. It's doesn't feel right. Maybe because I don't know any of these girls?"

"You know Cheria," Sophie said, and she moved closer to Asbel to confide, "If you asked her to marry you, I bet she'd say yes."

He flushed. It wasn't like he was _completely_ oblivious. He'd noticed how lately her eyes were watching him, as though waiting for him to ask… something. Everyone seem to be expecting him to ask it, as though it would be a natural progression from their friendship. And it wasn't like he didn't ever have some small lingering feelings for her, mixed up with his feelings of friendship. He cared for her more than any of these girls on printed paper, and with his mother pushing him, he wondered if that might be enough. But… "I don't know, Sophie… something about it just wouldn't feel right."

"You don't love her?" Sophie asked.

He scratched nervously at his neck. "I mean, of course I love her in a way. Like I do with you, Sophie. You remember how we talked about different types of love before… right?"

"Romantic love is the type of love when you want to marry someone. Friendship-love is when you love someone because they're your friend or family," Sophie said, speaking from rote.

"Exactly!" Asbel said, hands on his hips and smiling with pride. "So you get what I mean, right?"

"You can't marry Cheria, because you only feel friendship-love for her. And that would be like marrying Hubert."

"And I definitely don't want to do that!" Asbel laughed.

"Yes, well you couldn't, anyway, since Hubert wants to marry Pascal."

"Well, good luck to him on that one," Asbel said, still laughing.

"So what about Richard?" Sophie asked.

"What, about Pascal and Richard?" Asbel felt like he'd lost a thread of the conversation somewhere. He let his mind drift away for a second, imagining the nationalisation of Banana Pie Wednesday, mandatory natto-on-toast breakfasts and the other royal abominations Queen Pascal would inflict upon the country of Windor.

"Asbel. Pay attention," Sophie told him off, looking down at him with her hands fitted sternly on her hips. "I mean about _you_ and Richard."

"Uh… me and Richard?"

"Yes. That's what I said. Do you feel friendship-love or romantic-love for Richard?"

Asbel's hand went back to rubbing the back of his neck, an old nervous tic. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. "Ah, well, I couldn't marry Richard!"

"Why?" Again those straight-forward eyes peered into his, searching.

And now Asbel was blushing, and once again, he wasn't entirely sure why. "Uhh, well… that's…"

Nor did he linger on the reason for the rush of relief when their conversation was interrupted, his mother poking her head around the door of the study. She asked: "Asbel? Have you got a moment?"

"Sure!" he exclaimed, straight back and rigid as Lady Kerri came in, gazing around at the flower invasion.

"My, my. You have prettied the place up, haven't you Sophie?" she said.

Sophie puffed her chest with pride. "It's because Asbel wasn't feeling well," she said.

"Oh, you didn't say Asbel," Lady Kerri said, eyes scanning her son for any visible signs of illness, eyebrows drawn in worry.

"Yes, he was looking over his paperwork and groa—"

"Ah, that's enough of that, Sophie!" he said, laughing loudly. "I promise I'm perfectly fine, Mum. Was there something you wanted?"

Eyes sweeping another quick inspection, Lady Kerri cleared her throat. "Yes, I actually wanted to ask you if you'd made your decision yet from the eligible girls?"

"Um," said Asbel.

"Yes, I thought that might be the case," Lady Kerri said with a sigh. "I would like for you to go to Barona next week, Asbel."

"Barona?"

"I've arranged for you to meet someone there for dinner. Please, at least go and see if they're suitable. That's all I ask."

"Could I come, Asbel?" Sophie asked, eyes wide with excitement. "I could go see Richard while you're on your date."

Well, there was that to it. Busy with his work, he saw his friend too little these days. It would be nice to stop off at the castle and call upon him.

Asbel stood from his seat and laid a hand on Sophie's hair, brushing a strand out of her face. "I'd like to see him too, so we might as well go. I'll meet with her, at least. Who is she?" he asked.

"I asked Frederic to leave the details on your desk a few days ago," Lady Kerri said, nudging her head to the unopened envelope that he'd been ignoring since Frederic placed it there.

"Um," he said, with embarrassment.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever am I to do with you, Asbel?"

* * *

To be fair, thought Asbel, he did _intend_ on checking out the contents of the envelope the next day, except that Sophie had wanted his help in the garden and he hadn't had time. And then by the time he'd finished his inspection of the town with Bailey, dinner was due.

Scarfing down a plate of curry, his mother enquired from across the table, "So, Asbel… what did you think of the person in that envelope?"

A chunk of beef caught in his throat. Sophie patted his back with the force of a sledgehammer and quickly dislodged it. "Ahh, that's…"

Sophie's voice was chastising, "Asbel. You didn't look, did you?"

His mother's disapproving shake of the head was bad enough, but now she'd recruited _Sophie_?

"Look, I'll make sure to read it all over tonight, I promise," he said, though afterwards he returned to his curry with less gusto than before.

* * *

Naturally, as he and Sophie boarded the boat to Barona the next day, only then did Asbel realise he probably, really should have taken a look to see who he was supposed to be meeting.

 _Ah well,_ he figured. _Probably just some Lady of Somewhere. Richard can tell me who she is…_

After that, his thoughts were swiftly derailed. Hopefully, it wouldn't even take too long, and he could spend the rest of the trip with the King…


	2. Chapter 2

"I said it before and I'll say it again, Sophie. This sopheria addiction is getting…" Asbel said, shaking his head as servant after servant staggered by with Sophie's potted flowers. Soon, the castle guest room would be overrun by the things and return to the wilderness from which it sprang.

"Did you really need to bring so many?" he said instead.

"They're gifts," said Sophie. "Hubert told me flowers are good to give as presents."

But as he watched servant after servant go past with sopherias he wondered just how many people she had to give gifts to. Was she planning on giving one to the girl who sold the ice pops?

As he was contemplating whether or not to buy ice pops, Sophie let out a cry of, "Richard!" and flew down the hallway. Asbel whipped round just in time to see Sophie fling her arms around Richard, who chuckled and reciprocated the hug.

"I'm so happy to see you too, Sophie," he said.

"I bought you a present, Richard!" she said, all breathless smiles.

"You're far too kind, Sophie. Whatever could it be?"

Asbel ambled up to the two of them, hands deep in his pockets, grinning. "It's a sopheria," he said. "Everyone's getting sopherias."

"Asbel!" Sophie cried, poking him hard in the chest. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Even as they spoke servants were still staggering under the weight of the flowerpots. But to his credit, despite having received enough of the flowers to start a botanical garden, Richard behaved as though it was one of the best gifts he'd ever received.

"And it is! What a lovely surprise, Sophie."

Sophie stopped glaring quite so hard. "I picked you an extra nice one, Richard."

"Then I shall put it in my study and take the utmost care of it."

What a charmer. Asbel watched as Sophie melted like butter.

"My apologies, Miss, but where would you like these flowerpots…?" a servant asked.

Sophie turned away to sort out her pots, and strangely now Richard's broad smile became almost shy.

"You've no idea how glad I am you're here, Asbel," he said.

But perhaps it wasn't just Sophie he had that effect on. Asbel scratched at his neck, stomach feeling warm and fluttery. "Oh well, you know. Sophie and I wouldn't miss an opportunity to come see you, Richard."

Richard's shy smile grew wider, and Asbel found it impossible to stop from smiling back at him. That feeling was in his chest again, warm and bright as a summer's day.

"I admit I wasn't sure what your response would be. But—" Sophie was trotting back towards them now, grinning over a potted sopheria. "We can speak about this more this evening, perhaps?"

"Oh, sure," said Asbel. He doubted he would be long at dinner with the girl his mother had chosen for him to meet. He'd been thinking of swinging by Richard's rooms afterwards, anyway. "I'll look forward to it."

Asbel was surprised, yet not at all displeased when Richard brought him for a embrace. It lasted far longer and felt more intimate than their usual goodbye. Usually Richard would clasp him in a casual one-armed hug, but this time, he pulled him in tight. "Tonight, then," Richard said, voice so close to his ear he felt his breath ghost against his earlobe, a thrill chasing through him. When Sophie made a noise to get their attention and Asbel pulled away, he was pleased and flushed, watching Sophie present her gift in a sort of daze.

Had he just never noticed before, or had his friend always smelled that _good_?

* * *

 

"What do you reckon, then?" Asbel asked, turning away from the mirror and smoothing out a few wrinkles in his dress shirt. Sat swinging her legs on the bed, Sophie eyed him down and gave him an approving nod.

"You should take a flower to give her, though," Sophie said.

"Because Hubert told you were good as gifts, right?" Asbel teased her.

"Also that. But also because the Captain said it's romantic. Oh, but make sure to tell her that the flower does not compare to her beauty."

"The Captain and I are going to have a long talk one day about the things he tells you about," Asbel muttered. He turned back to the mirror and pulled at his shirt again.

Honestly, he was more than a little nervous. It wasn't like he'd ever really been on a date before. Not unless you counted the times he'd gone out with Anissa, who worked as a maid at the Barona inn (and how was he supposed to know those were dates? He thought she'd just wanted to go out and get ice pops together and that bit watching the sunset at the valkines had been a detour).

"Do you hope you'll like her?" Sophie asked.

"Sure," said Asbel, thinking, _I hope she doesn't want to talk for too long after dinner. I don't want to disturb Richard too late._

"I wonder if she's some relation of the Windor royal family if we're meeting here at the castle?" Asbel said to himself as he straightened his cravat. Or tried to. He stared helplessly at it. How on earth did Richard manage to look so regal in these things, when he looked like he was wearing a frilly napkin under his neck?

A sigh from the bed. "Asbel." Sophie slipped from the satin and seemingly effortlessly, pulled his cravat straight.

"Hey, you're sure you've never worn one of these things, right?" he asked.

"It's really not that hard, Asbel," she chastised him.

"Ouch. Be a little kinder to my ego, Sophie."

She ignored him, pressing a bunch of flowers into his hand. "You should go now or you'll run late."

"I suppose so. Will you be alright? I imagine Richard would let you eat dinner with him if you asked."

She shook her head. "He said he had to meet with someone tonight. He offered to send me some food here but I want to go explore."

"Will you be okay?" At Sophie's look he raised his hands, a defensive barrier to shield himself from her exasperated stare. "Okay, okay. I know you'll be fine. You know I worry too much. I'll see you later tonight."

* * *

 

Clasping his bunch of sopherias on the way to the dining hall, Asbel was struck by a thought. _Richard will know her name!_ The more he thought on it, the more awkward he felt not even knowing her name. It wasn't, after all, the poor woman's fault he had no interest in this match (and was, at this very moment, thinking of the King, his attention oddly fixated on the embrace they'd shared earlier, and how Richard had smelled of clean linen and something he couldn't quite name.)

So instead of taking a right towards the dining hall, Asbel looped back the other way towards Richard's rooms. It would admittedly be awkward to to tell him he didn't even know the name of the girl. Less awkward, however, than her finding out the suitor who'd come to woo her didn't even know.

However, there was no answer as Asbel rapped at Richard's door.

"You really shouldn't be keeping your date waiting, young Lord Asbel."

Asbel turned to see Duke Dalen smiling at him. He flushed. "I thought I would just stop in and see Richard quickly before."

"Well, I won't put down your eagerness. But his Majesty left a short while ago."

"Did you by any chance hear where he said he was going?" Asbel asked.

Duke Dalen quirked a bushy eyebrow, a joke in his voice as he said, "He did mention something about a date with a certain young prospect…"

Richard, on a date? Dalen was still speaking, but Asbel could no longer hear above the sinking of his heart.

In retrospect, he probably should have considered that his friend would also be pestered about weddings and heirs, yet somehow those things and Richard had not connected in his head.

He could feel the bouquet Sophie had given him drooping in his hand.

"Lord Asbel, are you quite alright? You've come over rather pale," said Dalen.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine…" Asbel muttered.

"Not pre-date nerves, surely?"

He shook his head, and picked himself out of his dejection. Why was he feeling so out of sorts about this, anyway? Richard could date who he wanted. After all, he wanted little more than his friend's happiness!

So he told himself, at least.

"No, I'm fine," he told Dalen. "You're right. I should get going before I'm late."

Dalen wished him good luck, once again with a playful note in his voice he seldom heard from the old man, and Asbel headed off towards the dining room.

_So that's what Richard meant when he told Sophie he couldn't have dinner with her. But why didn't he say anything to me…?_

Dejected thoughts nipped at Asbel's heels as he strode into the antechamber, but he tugged the frown off his face as he pushed open the doors to the dining room. He'd get this over and done with, and he could tell his mother he'd at least met with the girl. The girl who wasn't on his mind in the slightest as the doors opened and he saw the table with its elaborate candelabra and two places set and—

"Richard?" said Asbel.

His friend was sat at one of the places, looking lovely in a white and purple ensemble, so regal Asbel himself felt foolish in his dress shirt. But Richard smiled warmly at him, and he was butter melting in a pan all over again.

"You look very handsome, Asbel," he said.

"Um. Oh, you think so?" He pulled at his own cravat. His cheeks felt like they were burning. "I'm pretty hopeless at this stuff, but Sophie helped me."

Richard stifled laughter under a hand. "You've pulled it loose, Asbel."

He'd been toying with it in his nervousness and fluster, wondering how on earth he must have got the wrong room and interrupted Richard waiting for his date. And as a result, ruined Sophie's work.

"Uh."

Richard rose from his seat and in a few strides he'd crossed the room, and his hands were at Asbel's neck, deftly fixing the mess Asbel had made of himself. When those slim fingers grazed the flesh of his neck, Asbel swallowed so hard he could feel his adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"There. Now you're perfect."

Asbel started, and his eyes jarred into contact with Richard's, the intensity he found in them stealing away the lighthearted joke on his tongue.

"Uh," he said instead.

Asbel couldn't help but wonder: had Richard _always_ been this beautiful?

"Um. I— should probably go," Asbel blurted.

A playful quirk of an eyebrow. "And where pray tell are planning on going?" Absently, he pulled a thread loose from Asbel's shirt, and the casual contact made Asbel feel like was going to lose consciousness.

"Um, date. Was supposed to meet—" Asbel was stumbling over his words, flushing hard. "Must have got the wrong room— should go— sorry to disturb you."

And Asbel pretty much ran from the room, flinging the door behind him, panting hard. _Well, that was stupendously awkward._

He began to walk very quickly, searching for the other dining room.

Asbel found himself lapping Barona Castle three times before he found himself standing once again in front of the room he'd met Richard, frowning.

"Excuse me," he called to a passing maid, arms full with a basket of washing.

"Yes Sir?"

"Where is the west dining room?"

"You've found it, Sir," said the young maid.

The lines at Asbel's temple deepened. "Huh."

Experimentally, he opened the door again. Sat back at the table, legs crossed, Richard inclined his head at him curiously. Asbel shut the door.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Quite sure, Sir."

Asbel opened the door again. Richard was rapping his fingers against the table. "Do you plan on sitting down yet Asbel, or did you want to run a few more laps around the castle first?"

Slowly, Asbel closed the door behind him, and approached the candlelit table, where he pulled up the chair with a long, agonizing scrape. As carefully as if he was sitting on a bed of nails, he sat down. "I'm not entirely sure what you and I are doing here," he admitted.

"Well, first we're having venison with the merlot, and then Helena has cooked up a delicious crumble for dessert," Richard said.

Even as he spoke the door swung open and two servants brandishing silver serving platters whisked out the main course and poured their wine. A musical quartet set up their instruments, and began to play their first suite. Rigid at the table, with its white lace tablecloth, all words evaporated from Asbel's mouth. Richard was sitting directly opposite him in the soft halo of candlelight, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth and a cream rose in his lapel and it was almost like…

"…a date," Asbel mumbled to himself.

"Pardon, Asbel? I didn't quite catch that."

"Umm," he said. "I think there must have been some mix-up, Richard. You see," he rubbed at the bristly hair at the back of his neck, still clinging to the sensible thought that this was still some silly mistake that could be fixed. "I was supposed to meet someone here. A marriage prospect."

"Indeed," said Richard, who seemed unfazed by this, taking a delicate bite of the venison with his silver fork.

"And, you were supposed to be meeting someone too, right?" Asbel asked. His head was beginning to hurt.

At last, Richard put down his fork. "Asbel, I'm sure you didn't but by any chance… did you not ask _who_ your date was supposed to be?"

"Aha, well, that's a funny one. Because I meant to, but yeah, basically I forgot. I know, that was a dumb mistake. Mum asked me to come to Barona and I said I would and I definitely meant to find out, but. Um. Did you know who she's meant to be?"

"Oh," said Richard. A look of terrible hurt Asbel didn't understand the reason for flashed across his eyes, and inside his chest Asbel felt something crumpling.

The warble of the viola warbled on, filling the awkward silence between them.

Asbel decided this was probably the opportune time to stuff his face with dinner, since if his mouth was full he couldn't manage to embarrass himself anymore than he already had. Richard must think him the most rude ungentlemanly creature to walk Ephinea. No doubt his date was Richard's cousin, or some such thing—

Richard took a deep breath, visibly swallowing down the look of injury and said, "Asbel, I'm the one who asked you to come to Barona. I arranged it through Lady Kerri. I'm your date."

Asbel emitted a small, choking sound.

This was probably because he was, in actuality, choking.

Gasping for breath, he heard Richard cry, "Asbel!" and the tumult of running feet. His chest burning, Asbel blacked out, the last feeling he felt: something hard slamming against his back, strong hands gripping him hard.

* * *

 

Richard had known something was up when Asbel entered the dining room looking like a lost stray cat. Yet he'd never even considered that Asbel might have come all the way to Barona, not even knowing _who he was meeting_.

It'd taken some time for Dalen to convince him approaching Asbel would be a good idea. Once he'd tentatively contacted Lady Kerri, he'd waited on tender hooks for Asbel's response, second and third guessing himself.

And then Lady Kerri had sent him a small note: _Asbel says he'll leave for Barona on the tuesday._

For years the young king had nursed his feelings for his friend, never once considering he would reciprocate them. That Asbel would even consider his proposal, even for political reasons, made Richard want to sing aloud from Windor's belfries.

And then Asbel had turned up, thinking he was going to be _meeting a girl_. Richard could throttle him, if Asbel wasn't already choking on his dinner, his face pinking and purpling as he clutched at the lacy tablecloth.

The string of the viola hit a sour note.

"Asbel!" Richard cried, flying to his side as the tuba player smacked Asbel on the back as hard as he could. The wedge of venison lodged in his friend's windwipe didn't budge however, Asbel's face purpling further. "Hit him again!" Richard cried, and when this yielded no results, Richard hit him himself, smacking him round the back with all the strength of his years of training with the rapier and the force of all his ardour and upset and anger. It sent the glob of food flying to hit with a _smack_ against a portrait of Sir Stanley the Sixth.

"Your Majesty! He's still not breathing!"

"Please move out of the way," said Richard. "I know what to do." Hoiking up his frilly sleeves, Richard knelt down beside Asbel. For two years as a child he'd been Gralesyde regional swimming champion, during which time he'd learnt several, invaluable, life skills.

For the last few weeks he'd thought at length about the first kiss he might share with Asbel. How he might cup the side of Asbel's cheek and let his teeth skim the softness of Asbel's lower lip and kiss him tenderly. Or how he might take his mouth with ardor, kissing him hard enough to leave a bruise.

He definitely hadn't considered Asbel would be unconscious and he'd be watched by the members of the Windor Quartet as he mashed his mouth to Asbel and began performing CPR.


	3. Chapter 3

Asbel woke, much later, cracking his eyes open against the glaring morning light trying to ram its way into his retinas, to see a whole lot of purple.

Everything hurt. His chest and jaw felt sore, as though he'd been punched in the teeth. It took him a moment to realise he was in one of the castle guest rooms, unrecognisable under a more-than-generous slathering of sopherias. The combined smell was so pungent and floral Asbel felt his nostrils twitch.

"Oh, good, Asbel. You're awake," said Sophie. She was sat by his bedside.

Asbel put a hand to his aching jaw. "What happened?" he managed to ask.

"You went on a date with Richard and fainted," Sophie said, quite matter-of-fact.

The events of last night came back to Asbel now, in painful crystal clarity. The groan that escaped his lips was so painful sounding that Sophie leaned over to take his temperature. "Does something hurt, Asbel?" she asked.

"Just my brain…" Asbel muttered, thinking, _and probably my dignity, too. Which is now at zero._

Instead of thinking of last night, he fixed his attention on the sopherias that crowded the bedroom like guests he hadn't invited to a party he hadn't arranged.

"Sophie… these flowers… was it really necessary… so _many_ of them?"

"Richard told me you give flowers to people who are sick," Sophie said, quite self-assured.

 _Richard._ Richard who must be now thinking he was a total idiot. Whose feelings he must have hurt.

Richard, who had asked him to come to Barona _on a date._

_As a potential marriage candidate._

Woefully, he thought: _He'll never want to marry me, after that!_

And then: _Wait, what?_

Asbel's thoughts slipped back to last night. Things had become hazy after he blacked out, and when he'd briefly woken it'd been to the feeling of having his chest pummelled.

(Which, actually, probably explained why his chest was so sore.)

It'd been an effort, but Asbel had pushed his eyes open. It was an odd contrast of conflicting feelings: having the shit beaten out of him, and the feeling of of Richard's mouth on his.

"Your Majesty, he's awake!" Asbel heard someone exclaim, and the pummelling ceased, Richard pulling away.

He hovered over him, his hair a golden aurora around him as he breathed, "Thank goodness, Asbel. I was so afraid."

Asbel was starting to become more aware of his situation, and in particular that they were not alone. The Windor Quartet stood around them, watching on in concern.

Once again, Asbel had made a royal fool out of himself.

"Ahh, I'm fine, Richard. Don't worry about me."

"If anything happened to you of all people, Asbel, I…" with the back of his hand Richard brushed his cheek, and all thought of the string quartet were chased away by the stardust tingles that ricocheted through his nerve endings. Somehow, there was something about that tiny touch that felt more intimate than anything Asbel had ever experienced. His breath hitched, and that brief moment seemed to encompass eternity: himself, Richard with hair falling around them like a golden curtain and the feeling of his fingers against Asbel's cheek.

He'd released the breath he hadn't even known he was holding, but by that point it was too late and Asbel had passed out from asphyxiation.

Laid up in bed, Asbel thought: _How humiliating._

"Um. Sophie. Did… did Richard tell you all about what happened last night?"

Sophie nodded. "He said you ran around the castle a lot and thought he was supposed to be a girl. Then you choked on a steak. Richard said it was a good thing King Ferdinand used to send him away to Gralesyde in the summer."

Asbel muttered something about that being very lucky, before he was promptly distracted thinking about how soft Richard's lips had been.

"Asbel, are you even listening to me?" Sophie asked, arms folded, eyes cross.

"Huh? Yeah, of course Sophie."

"Then what do you think?"

"Uh… about what?" said Asbel, smiling sheepishly.

"I asked you if you wanted to marry Richard?" Sophie said.

Asbel could literally feel his spirit leaving his body. Sophie lent closer to hear his mumbling, but only heard something that sounded like _friendship, something something mumble protect._

"Asbel, this is serious," Sophie said.

You knew it was bad when you had Sophie telling you off.

"Well it's. Um. Not something I ever really thought about. I mean, we're just really good friends. Great friends. That… that doesn't mean I want to _marry_ him… because if I married him that's mean I'd kiss him, and, uh—" he thought again of Richard's lips on his, and quickly went on: "-and uhh, other stuff."

"You don't want to kiss Richard?"

"Well it's not like it'd be a _bad_ thing— I mean, it's Richard. If he wanted to, I wouldn't mind." No, in fact, thinking about he shouldn't mind it at all. Just like he wouldn't mind Richard's arms around him pulling him for a tight embrace, and resting his head on his shoulder, and—

Asbel stopped. He sat bolt upright in bed. He asked Sophie: "I mean, that's normal, right? To want to kiss your best friend?"

To his surprise, Sophie took his hand, squeezing it gently with a sigh. "Asbel, there's something I think I need to tell you."

"What is it, Sophie?"

"You're in love with Richard."

The words passed through Asbel's ear and went out the other side without a twinkle of comprehension. The arrangement of the words: _love, Richard_ and _him_ didn't seem to connect.

After a long silence Asbel said, "Are you sure?"

Sophie nodded, so solemn she might be sat at a patient's beside, bearing bad news. "The Captain told me all about the symptoms. You're ensnared deeper in love's spiteful trap than an innocent doe."

Asbel's one coherent thought was that: at least he didn't have anything to choke upon, this time.

"But it's okay, Asbel," Sophie said, squeezing his hand again with a big smile. "Because Richard loves you too Asbel! He told me about it last night."

Asbel wondered if it would be bad if he fainted again, and how many sopherias Sophie would manage to cram into the room if ever managed to wake up from it.

* * *

_Previously, at midnight…_

"Miss Sophie, I'm sorry to ask this of you at such a late hour, but I am in dire need of your help."

Rubbing at her eyes, only in her nightgown, the last person Sophie expected to open the door to was Duke Dalen. Hands cinched behind his back, the look on his face was grave.

"Of course. What's wrong?" she said.

"I'd handle this matter myself, but I fear I'm ill equipped toward the task. It's about his Majesty—"

Dalen hadn't needed to say any more. Immediately the two of them were on their way, and as they headed deeper into the castle Sophie realised there was only one destination they could be headed toward.

The door to the old storage room was ajar, and peeking in Sophie could see the fort she and Richard had built, with Richard's boots sticking out of the end of it.

Sophie gave Dalen a _I'll handle it_ nod, and Dalen offered a small bow of thanks before he took his leave.

Before she headed inside, Sophie thought that it was good that even without her and Asbel here, Richard still had such a good friend at the castle.

Richard heard her footsteps, and by the time she took off her shoes and waded into the blanket fort on her knees, he'd already pulled his face into a smile. It wasn't hard for Sophie to see right through it. That, and the blanket he'd cocooned himself up in, the children's adventure book open on his lap and the half eaten apples kind of gave the real state of things away.

"Richard… are you okay?" she asked, as she padded in.

Looking more than a little embarrassed, he tried to pull the blanket from his shoulders, but Sophie put a hand on him, and he ceased. Richard might have to spend most of his days as the King of Windor, but in their fort with her, Richard could be just Richard.

"What's wrong?" Sophie asked, as she sat next to him.

So Richard spilled the beans about the night, and how it all gone horribly wrong. His voice hitched with embarrassment as he admitted he'd gone on a date with Asbel, eyes shifting nervously towards her to gauge her reaction.

"Oh—h. So you were Asbel's date?"

"I expect that must sound a little strange to you."

"Not really. He wasn't really looking forward to meeting a girl he didn't know, but he always has fun spending time with you, Richard." The anxiety in Richard's eyes softened, and Sophie continued: "Grandma Kerri keeps telling him off for being lazy and not deciding who he wants to marry. But all last week he stayed up late every night because he was stressed about it. And I don't think he's been sleeping well. He said he looked, but I think he was too nervous to even find out who he was supposed to be meeting tonight."

"Oh, my," said Richard. "No wonder seeing me there gave him such a turn."

"He was surprised?"

"You could say so," said Richard. "I probably should have timed telling him better, in retrospect. He nearly choked to death. I haven't practiced my life saving skills in many years."

"Choked?" said Sophie, eyes wide.

"He's fine now," Richard assured her. "I think the shock of the evening was too much for him. I put him to bed in the room next to yours."

"I guess you'll have to arrange another date then," said Sophie. "Since this one didn't go so well."

Richard became quiet. "If he wants to go on one."

He looked so terribly sad that Sophie exclaimed, "But of course he will!"

Richard looked up at her with curious eyes. "Why do you think that?"

"Because every time Asbel talks about you he gets this big smile on his face. It's different than when we talk about Pascal or Cheria or any of our other friends. And then sometimes he gets distracted and looks all distant and dreamy and I can't get his attention at all. And because he talks about you. A _lot_. I've known for ages."

A kind of awe and tentative happiness was blossoming on Richard's face as Sophie talked, and now he asked hesitantly, "Known… what?"

"That he loves you," said Sophie with a nod. "Cheria and Hubert know too. I think the only person who doesn't know is _Asbel_. He thinks I don't understand about love, but he's the one who's really dense." And Sophie moved closer to Richard to confide: "He thinks he needs to look after me, but really I look after him."

Richard was beaming now, sunlight pouring out of his smile as he pulled an arm around Sophie's shoulders. "I think you may be right, Sophie. And what a lucky man he is, to have such a grown-up daughter like you."

"I think he still thinks of me as a little kid, though."

"Hm, yes. You may be right there."

"Do you see me as a child, Richard?" Sophie asked.

"No, Sophie," Richard said. "It's true you've still many things to learn. But you notice things. Things even I haven't picked up upon. In all honesty, I had no idea Asbel had been feeling such pressure…"

Ever since she took the Little Queen inside herself, she _felt_ more grown-up. Maybe not _completely_ grown-up. But mostly.

Even if Asbel hadn't noticed it, and still put his hand upon her head to muss up her hair and worried too much about her. She knew it was just Asbel's way of showing he cared.

Now she was grown up, the two of them could look after one another together.

"Can I ask you something, Richard?" Sophie asked.

"Of course." Richard's' arm was still around her, and she snuggled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. It felt cosy and nice.

"You love Asbel too, don't you?"

She felt Richard tense against her, before he relaxed, and she felt the soft rumble of his chuckle against her cheek. "I was right, wasn't I? You notice things."

"I knew it," she said, grinning against his shoulder.

"I fear I may have been rather obvious."

"You've felt that way for a long time, haven't you?"

"Probably ever since I first met you all as a boy. Even now I'm eternally grateful to whatever thought it was that inspired my father to send me to Lhant." Sophie stayed quiet, listening, and Richard went on: "After everything that happened, I wanted dreadfully to see him again. I learnt after some time that he'd enrolled in the knight academy in the city. I sneaked out several times to come see him— I even watched several of his training matches. But I could never seem to summon up the courage to announce my presence to him. You can't imagine how much I regret that now."

"Why didn't you?" asked Sophie.

"That day we spent in Lhant was the happiest day of my life. But… I couldn't imagine Asbel felt the same way about it. I thought he already must have forgotten about it, or that maybe it hadn't mean that much after all. Or even that he might not want to see me at all."

"How could you think that Asbel wouldn't want to see you?" This itself was a mind boggling thing to wrap her head around.

"I convinced myself it was my fault about things that had happened. I'd invited Asbel to come to Barona, and suggested the secret passage where…" the words _where you died,_ hung in the air, unspoken. "And after that, Asbel lost his brother, too. I thought that if Asbel saw me, all he would see would be the bad memories. It was a bad time, after that, but I knew how much Asbel must be suffering, too."

"But in the end, Asbel felt the same way as well. He told me about all the letters he tried to write to you. But he threw them all away," Sophie said.

A small laugh of derision. "Ridiculous, isn't it? All those years and we kept missing one another's feelings. And even now, I'm not sure much has changed…"

"Richard." Sophie pulled away from Richard, and took his hands. "I know what you have to do."

"Oh?" A small, sad smile playing at his lips.

"You have to be direct with him. _Really_ direct. He won't get it unless you spell it out with all the letters. Even the ones at the end of the alphabet. You have to tell him everything you just told me. You can't expect to try and hint and hope maybe he'll get it. Because- he won't get it."

"You know… I think perhaps you're wiser than you know, Sophie," Richard said. "You're right. This conundrum is in fact as much my fault as much as it is Asbel's. I ought to have come to Lhant and told him my feelings straight. This only happened because I dallied around using an intermediary. I should be honest."

Sophie nodded. "Right!" She squeezed Richard's hands and they beamed at one another.

It wasn't that Asbel was in any way unintelligent, Sophie thought. It was more like denial. Just as Richard struggled to imagine that Asbel returned his feelings, Asbel refused himself the very possibility of the thing.

Burdened with them herself, Sophie knew that emotions could be complicated things.

"Is it alright if I ask something else, Richard?"

"Sophie, my dear, you may ask me as many things as your heart desires."

"Will you promise to keep it a secret from Asbel? I… don't want him to think I'm a little kid."

"Keeping a lady's secret is part of a gentleman's duty, Sophie," Richard said. Sophie grinned. Richard could be so gallant sometimes, like a prince from her story books! No wonder Asbel had fallen in love with him.

"What does it feel like… to be in love?" she asked.

"Hmm… let me think of the best way to explain it."

"Is it a good feeling?" she asked.

"Well… there's good in it. But there's also bad. Most of the time it's not either of those things. It's not so much an emotion but a state of being." Sophie still looked confused, so he went on. "I guess I could say that it's about seeing that person gives you butterflies and makes you glow all the way down to your toes and all that other things. But it's really not about that at all. Honestly, with all the intrigue and awful things that have happened here, Barona castle has never really felt like home. But every time Asbel comes to visit, it's different. I can relax when I'm around him. He eases the burden of my responsibilities just by being by my side."

Sophie nodded like she understood. "OK. But go back to that thing about the glowing toes."

Richard laughed. "Well there's all that stuff, too. Wanting to be close to them, wanting to kiss them…"

"Would you like to kiss Asbel?"

"Very much so," Richard admitted.

"Kissing is kind of weird," Sophie said. "I saw Captain Malik doing it with the lady who works at the pub. It looked like he was trying to eat her face."

Richard muffled his laughter behind his hand.

"But— don't tell Asbel I said that!" Sophie said, huffing a little.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Richard said, still laughing so hard Sophie worried he was going to explode. Then he slid one leg behind the other and stood, offering Sophie his hand.

"It's late. Both you and I should get some rest," he said, and she nodded, taking his hand and letting him help her to her feet. "Thank you for coming to talk with me, Sophie. It's taken a huge weight from my mind."

"Mine, too," said Sophie. As much as she loved Asbel, she always had the best talks with Richard. He always listened and was kind, and if Asbel was the slightly-patronising but well-meaning father, then Richard was the big brother she could talk to anything about.


	4. Chapter 4

Richard… Richard was in love with _him_?

When the shock from Sophie's revelation began to fade away, Asbel felt a warmth from his chest that started to spread to his entire body.

 _Huh,_ he thought. Well, that would certainly explain some recent developments. He'd always assumed that urge to touch Richard, to put his head on his shoulder, to put his arm around his was simply because they were such good friends.

As for those certain dreams he'd had about his friend… he probably ought to have given them more thought. Especially since in the last few months, they'd started spreading to his waking hours as well…

Yes, in retrospect, most friends probably didn't daydream about trips to the sauna… and about their friends slipping out of their clothes… and their friends' skin glistening with sweat, and—

"Asbel, are you feeling okay?" Sophie asked. "You've gone red." Embarrassingly, she put her hand on his head to test his temperature.

Suddenly it was as obvious to him as though he'd been punched in the face. Though it still felt like he had, given the vigorous CPR Richard had given him the previous evening.

"I'm in love with Richard," he said, breathless.

"Yes, I just told you that a little while ago," Sophie replied, quite patiently. "Try to keep up, Asbel."

"But I am," Asbel said. He couldn't believe how he hadn't seen it until now. "I'm in _love_ with him." Maybe, if he said it enough times, it'd start making sense.

He'd always assumed that love was… you know, different. He'd tried looking at the girls his mother wanted him to meet. Tried to make himself feel something. He'd even started to wonder if his friendship with Cheria was really love. After all, he cared about her. He wanted to protect her. And she looked nice enough, didn't she?

Now he realised that if he'd asked Cheria to marry him, it wouldn't have been fair to her at all.

"I'm such an idiot, Sophie," he sighed. She looked at him curiously. "Here I was, lecturing to you about all the different types of love… and I didn't even have a clue myself. And in the end you had to tell _me_. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"Asbel…" Sophie moved over to sit on the side of the bed. He was surprised when she put his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace against her collarbone. Then he relaxed against her, chuckling.

"Thanks, Sophie," he said.

There was really nothing more than needed to be said.

* * *

Asbel headed to Richard's rooms, clutching a bouquet of roses he'd bought in town in hand. "They make a good apology present," she'd said.

"And who does this piece of advice come from?"

"Me," Sophie had said, wetting a finger to slick down a disobedient hair, and pushing him out of the door.

He found Richard in his study. A slightly weary voice called, "Come in," and Asbel pulled open the door to find Richard at his desk behind an imposing pile of paperwork. Richard looked at him, open-mouthed, and Asbel's mouth went dry as well.

He nodded to the pile of paperwork. "I know that feeling," he said.

Richard smiled, tightly. "I'm glad you're awake."

 _This is awkward,_ Asbel thought.

Suddenly, they both burst out at the same time:

"Richard, I'm really sorry—"

"Asbel, please accept my apologies—"

They both stared at one another.

"Why are you apologising, Richard?" Asbel spluttered out. "I was the one who as an idiot—"

"No, it's I who should be apologising. I should have been upfront with you—"

"—I mean, I should have just read the letter like I said I would—"

"—should have come to speak with you in person-"

Realising they were talking over one another, they both cut off at the same moment.

"Sorry," said Asbel when he thought it was safe.

"As am I," said Richard.

He thrust the bouquet at Richard. "Please, just take these and don't apologise any more— it's too embarrassing—"

Richard stared at the bouquet in surprise. "Asbel— you shouldn't have—"

"Please just take them," he said, shoving them into Richard's hands. _Before this gets any more awkward,_ Asbel thought. Though he didn't think it could get any worse unless he glanced down it and turned out he'd been in his underpants the entire time.

Thankfully, Richard relented, his eyes softening as he took the flowers. "They're lovely. Thank you, Asbel."

"You should thank Sophie," said Asbel, glancing over at the window at a bird nest full of chicks as he rubbed at his neck. "It was her idea. I would have been too dense to think of something like that on my own."

"Asbel?" He continued to stare pointedly outside, until Richard said, quite firmly, "Asbel, would you look at me please?" Startled by the hard line in his voice, Asbel's eyes jarred against Richard. "Would you stop self-deprecating yourself for a second and talk to me properly?"

"Sorry Richard…"

Richard put up his hands. "And please, I think we've both apologised enough. Let's just talk. For the record, I don't think you're stupid. I'm sure there was a reason you didn't read my letter."

Asbel bit his lip and nodded. "I guess… I just didn't want to think about any of that stuff. My mother's been talking to me about getting married for months, but I could never imagine it. I suppose I just wanted to put off thinking about it. Because although I could never really put it into words, I guess that…" he took a deep breath. If he and Richard were going to be honest with one another he might as well start right here and now. "… I guess because I've never really thought about anyone other than you."

He saw Richard's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and his gloves creak as his knuckles tightened. "You don't know how happy it makes me to hear that, Asbel," he said, voice deepening with emotion.

"Richard?" he asked, tentative, a little shy.

"Ever since you came to Lhant, when we were children…" Richard said, and he paused to collect his thoughts. Asbel noticed that Richard's hands on the table were shaking ever so slightly. His own were doing the same. "I've felt the same way," he confessed. "Ever since then. When were separated, I thought about you almost every single day."

"So did I, Richard," Asbel said. A relief to say the words out loud. "You've no idea much I wanted to just come knock on the castle door and see you. But…"

Richard nodded. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me," he admitted.

"What? No way!" he slammed his hands down on the desk. "I was worrying about the exact same thing."

They both looked at one another. And Richard began to laugh under his hand, and slowly, Asbel joined in. The whole thing just suddenly felt ridiculous.

When the laughter finally stopped, it stole away the tension that had lingered like an overbearing smog in the room since Asbel first opened the door. He smiled, and Richard smiled back at him. All of a sudden the desk that divided them with the paperwork piled high became a nuisance. Why on earth had been speaking to one another like this, with a desk in front of them like it was some business meeting, as though the two of them were taking part in a transaction?

Richard clearly felt the same way because he now stood, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to close the remaining distance between the two of them. For Asbel to open his arms and for Richard to come into them and feel him grasping the back of his jacket so tightly it almost hurt.

When his hands stopped shaking, he pulled back from Richard, just enough to see his face. He leaned in for a clumsy kiss, knocking noses against one another and laughing.

"Try angling your head that way," Richard told him. "And I'll go that way—"

"—Like this—?"

"No, like—"

Their lips met, and Asbel's breath hitched, and Richard's fingers tightened against his shirt.

"Wow. Okay, like that," Asbel said, voice quivering.

This time, Richard kissed him, greedy clumsy kisses on his lips and on the side off his mouth, until they were both out of breath and grasping at one another, beaming so hard it hurt.

"So I was thinking—" Asbel said.

"Hm?"

"We should go on another date. Since the last one was kind of a doozy."

"Best idea you ever had," said Richard, before he kissed him again.

**The End.**


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